


5 Times They Ate Separately (and one time they didn't)

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cisco Can Make Friends with Anybody, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: On a long holiday weekend where it feels like he's the only kid in the dorm who didn't go home, Cisco discovers that the girl at the front desk is here all weekend too. Okay, so she's not initially as stoked as he is. But she's someone to talk to, at least.
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Caitlin Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	5 Times They Ate Separately (and one time they didn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonlightShines (Thatkillervibe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkillervibe/gifts).



> Congratulations to @MoonlightShines for finishing her thesis and also college! Wooo!

_1\. Friday Night_

His phone pinged with a text and Cisco looked up, blinking, from his video game. He pulled it out of his pocket, went to open the text, and accidentally answered a call that started coming in that moment. Wincing, because nobody called except telemarketers, he said, “Yes?”

“Cisco Ramon?” said a brisk female voice.

Gearing himself up to turn down an extended car warranty or something, he said, “Yes, but - ”

“Hi, this is the front desk of Star House,” the female voice went on. “You have a food delivery.”

“I - a what?”

“A food delivery,” she said. “Please come get it.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m on my way.”

She hung up and left him blinking at the screen. He tapped the text and confirmed that his burrito was on the premises, which left him even more confused.

First of all, Kevin usually had the evening shift at the front desk, and second of all, he’d never called even once for a food delivery. Usually he lifted a lazy hand and said “‘Sup,” as Cisco came to meet the delivery people, if he looked away from his tablet at all. 

Shaking his head, Cisco headed down to the lobby to collect his food. 

“Cisco?” the delivery guy said, unzipping his insulated bag. “Carne asada burrito, chips and guac, and an orange Fanta?”

“Yep,” he said, taking the fragrant paper bag and the sweating cup from him. “Thanks.”

“Have a good day,” the delivery guy said, and disappeared to his next quest to bring deliciousness to people who didn’t want to leave their house. 

Cisco set his food on the desk and paused to look at the attendant. She was a cute white girl with a reddish-chestnut ponytail and a giant chemistry book spread out in front of her. She looked vaguely familiar.

She sensed his gaze and looked up. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“You’re not Kevin,” he said.

“No,” she said. “He went home for the long weekend. I picked up his shifts. And some others.”

His mood brightened. Everyone he knew had gone home until Monday or Tuesday. Definitely everyone on his floor. Somehow this was the holiday weekend every freshman went home for. “So you’re staying on campus, too?" 

"Yes,” she said. 

“Cisco,” he said, offering his hand. 

“I know,” she said, not taking it.

He cocked his head. “And your name is?”

She tapped her name tag. It read _Caitlin._

“Cool,” he said. “Nice to know I’m not going to be all alone in this mausoleum.”

“You’re not,” she said. “There are at least five other people still here.”

In a dorm with six floors, that actually wasn’t that many. “Well, I haven’t seen them,” he said, peering at her book. “Hey, is that the Chem 201 book? Who do you have?”

“Professor McGee,” she said, “and so do you. You’re in my lecture.”

“I am?” No wonder she looked familiar. Although it was a giant lecture, at least three hundred students. “Huh, no way. What are you working on?”

“Studying for the test.”

He went rigid with alarm - _test oh shit what test_ \- but whipped out his phone and checked his calendar. “Geez,” he said, wilting against the desk. “Don’t freak me out like that. The test isn’t until Friday.”

“I know,” she said. “I really need to study.”

“Uh, that’s a literal week away. Like, today is Friday, and the test is in seven whole entire days. You don’t need to be studying on a holiday weekend.”

“I do if I don’t want to get a B,” she said. 

From her tone, a B was apocalyptic. The end of the world. Dishonor on her, dishonor on her cow. 

“Um,” he said. “Ever heard how C’s get degrees?”

“They don’t get me into med school.”

Damn, this chick was hard-core. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’m just saying maybe you could afford to relax a little, in the first semester of freshman year.”

Very pointedly, she turned a page and started writing out an equation. 

“Right,” he said. “Studying. Got it.”

On his way back up, he wondered if she’d had any dinner. He ate a chip and shook his head. She was fine, probably. 

* * *

_2\. Saturday Afternoon_

But the solitude got to him again by lunchtime the next day. Even though he was happy not to have to battle anybody for the showers, the empty halls were more than a little eerie. In his short time at CCU, he’d gotten used to voices and laughter and yelling outside his door. Texting people and getting random, scattershot answers as they all replied in between whatever fun things they were doing at home really wasn’t a substitute for human contact.

His roommate had predicted this when he’d announced his intention of staying, but Cisco had laughed and waved it off.

“Video games and takeout all day and night,” he crowed. 

Yeah, that had seemed like fun at the time. 

When his phone rang, he grabbed it. “Hey!”

“This is the front - “

“Hi, Caitlin. My food here?”

“Yes, please come -“

“On my way.” He loped down the hall. Even though Caitlin seemed to hate him for no reason, she was at least another human face.

The pizza guy was trying to flirt with her, if the way he was leaning on the desk was any indication. She had her head bent over her textbook again, scowling. Cisco felt his mood lift. Clearly it wasn’t personal, she just didn’t like anybody.

He stood there for a good thirty seconds before pointedly clearing his throat. “Pepperoni and mushroom?” he said loudly.

“Oh,” the pizza guy said, looking around. “Oh, yeah. And a two-liter of Cherry Coke.” He handed it over, the credit card slip on top, and leaned on the desk again with a smooth smile. “Hey, you know, there’s always free pies at work. I could go and get one and bring it back. What do you like?”

Dude, Cisco thought as he signed the slip, seriously? That was some lame-ass flirting.

“I’m really very busy,” Caitlin said. 

“Oh, yeah, you look busy. You should take a break. Rest your brain.” He grinned again. 

Caitlin stared at her textbook. Now that Cisco was really looking, he noticed her eyes weren’t moving and her pen was still. She was just waiting for the guy to go away. 

If waiting was even the right word. More like enduring. Suffering.

The pizza guy didn’t seem to want to move. When his eyes flickered over and a frown crossed his forehead, Cisco realized he was waiting, too - for _him_ to leave. So he could continue with his awful, unwelcome flirting.

Well, all right then.

Cisco set his pizza box down on the counter and opened it all the way up. Then he opened the two-liter and waited for the fizz to die down before lifting it to his lips and swigging straight from the bottle, eyes directly on Pizza Creep.

Who turned away and said, “I get a lot of perks from this gig. It’s pretty sweet. One time I delivered a bunch of pies and they paid me a hundred dollars to go pick up a keg. I’m twenty-one, so I can do that. You want me to pick you up something? Wine coolers?”

“There’s no drinking in this dorm,” Caitlin said. 

Cisco almost choked on his second swig of Coke. If she believed that, she either didn’t live here or she never looked up from her chem book. 

Her eyes flicked over to him, with something almost like a smile in them. Then she glanced back at the pizza guy and looked fixedly down at her book.

“I’m off at six,” Pizza Creep said. “We should go out.”

Cisco picked up a slice of pizza, folded it in half, and stuck it in his mouth. “Mmmmmm,” he said, loud and obnoxious through his mouthful. “Goo’ pi'a.”

Pizza Creep looked up. “Dude? Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Cisco said, and took another bite. “You go right ahead.” He swigged again, carbonation buzzing in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down as hard as he could and took another swig.

Pizza Creep looked away. “Anyway, I could come back here, pick you up … We could go to a club. What do you think?” He reached over the desk to trail his finger over her wrist. She pulled her hand away. “Bet you look real cute in clubbing clothes.”

Cisco let out a burp that rattled the window panes. Pizza Creep said, “Jesus, dude!”

Caitlin pressed her hand to her mouth, and her shoulders started shaking. For a bad moment Cisco thought she was crying, because some pizza creep was hitting on her and some mannerless freshman had just basically burped right in her face -

But then the giggles spilled out around her hand. Her face was squished up all cute and dimples were digging themselves into her cheeks.

Pizza Creep said, “God. Fine.” He pushed himself away from the desk. “Didn’t really even want to go out with you. Ice cold bitch.” He grabbed his pizza sleeve and stormed out the front door as Caitlin wound down.

When she had stopped gasping for breath, Cisco said, “Sorry about the burping and the talking with my mouth full and you know. I was trying to drive him off.”

“Thank you,” she said, still flushed and pretty and smiling from her bout of laughter. “I’ve, um, I’ve never been rescued in quite that way before.”

“Eighteen years as a little brother,” he said. “Annoying people is my superpower.” He closed the Cherry Coke and started to pull the lid over the pizza. He paused. “Want a slice?”

She shook her head. “I had lunch already.”

“Really? What?”

“A sandwich.”

“Okay,” he said. “Well, I might have a slice or two left so if you get hungry, you can call me.” He glanced at her book. Chem again. “Or if you need someone to shuffle flashcards or something.”

Her smile died away and she looked at him sternly.

“Whoa,” he said. “I’m not trying to flirt like Pizza Creep there. I’m just - my roommate went home, and all my friends went home, and actually video games all by myself are kind of boring after the third or fourth hour in a row. Just saying, it’d be nice to hang out. You know. Break up the monotony.”

Her stern expression softened. “I’m working until ten,” she said. “But thanks." 

She bent over her book again, clearly very ready to get back to work, and he accepted the gentle brush-off. He stuck his soda under his armpit like a football, balanced the pizza box on the other arm, and headed back to his room.

Still, he reflected as he waited for the elevator, she was awfully cute when she laughed.

* * *

_3\. Saturday Night_

Around five-thirty, he went past the front desk and found it empty. He stood blinking, feeling more than a little dismayed.

"Hello?” he called out.

From the communal kitchen, he heard a gasp before she came scrambling out. “Sorry!” she said. “Sorry. I just stepped away and - sorry. How can I help you?”

“Chill,” he said. “It’s fine. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said again. “So, what are you studying tonight? Still chem? My offer of flashcard wrangler stands.”

“No, it’s European History right now. An essay.”

"Let me guess, due in November?“

"Due on Thursday.”

“I’m not in that class with you too, am I?”

She smiled. Oh, look at that, still cute. “No, you’re not.”

“Oh good, because I definitely would be failing, on account of not going even once. So what’s your essay?”

“The role of trade routes between urban centers in the spread of the bubonic plague.”

He blinked. “Oh, great. Light-hearted and fluffy, I see.”

“There are actually a lot of parallels to current pandemic models,” she said. “It’s very interesting from a public health standpoint.”

“Well, cool. Sounds like fun.”

“It is.” She tugged her shirt straight and brushed at a flyaway hair. “Are you waiting for another food delivery?”

“No, I was actually gonna go and get something.”

“Everything on campus is closed,” she said. 

“Not the Grille. Right?”

“Well, no, but they close in - ” She glanced at the time. “About an hour.”

“More than enough time.” He gave her a little salute. “You want me to bring you anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

He squinted at her. “You eat, right?”

“Yes, but I have food here.” Off in the kitchen, the microwave beeped.

“Oh no,” he said. “Really? Some sad little cheapass microwave meal that you’re going to eat over your bubonic plague research?”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s Easy Mac.”

He made a pained face. “Easy Mac is for two in the morning when everything’s closed or 'I haven’t eaten in eight hours and am legit going to pass out before I can walk to the buffet.’ Not for a meal. This is the whole reason they give us meal plans.” He waved his student ID.

“I got it at the convenience store last week. With my meal plan dollars.”

“You were ripped off,” he said. “Okay, look, are you on some kind of weird ass diet? Paleo or whole thirty or whatever the latest excuse for not enjoying food is?”

“No,” she said. “I am really, seriously fine with my Easy Mac and you should go before they start to close down all the food stations.”

He glanced at the time and conceded her point. “Okay,” he said, heading out the door. “Just saying. You have my number. Shoot me a text if you change your mind. I can bring back french fries or a tuna sandwich or you know, whatever.”

“I won’t,” she called after him. “But thank you!”

* * *

_4\. Sunday Afternoon_

Cisco took yesterday’s pizza down to the kitchen. He could have stuck it in the microwave in his room, yeah, but this was a chance to get out of his room and stretch his legs.

Also maybe to hang out and talk to Caitlin again.

When he got there, she was riffling through her stacks of paper and textbooks, a frown digging between her brows.

“Hey,” he said, setting his plate down. “Everything okay?”

“I thought I had it …” she mumbled. 

“What?”

“My sociology book. Ugh!” She kept looking.

He went to put his pizza in the microwave and came back. She’d moved everything from one side of the desk to the other and looked completely frazzled. 

“It’s probably in your room,” he said. 

“I know it is, I was working on the readings last night. I must not have put it in my bag. Ugh.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I wanted to finish that. Now my whole study schedule is going to be off.”

“Run up and get it,” he suggested. “You live here, right?”

“Of course I do, I just - I can’t leave the desk for that long.”

He looked around the empty lobby, shading his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I can see how you’re super-busy.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.

The microwave beeped and he went to retrieve his food. When he came back, she was grumpily rearranging all the books again, pouting at a color-coded piece of paper that was clearly her totaled study schedule.

“Look,” he said, flapping his hand over the hot pizza to cool it down. “Why don’t I watch the desk for you? Just for five minutes. Go get your text, get your homework done, and stop fretting.”

“I’m not fretting,” she said indignantly.

“You’re fretting all over the place. I’m capable of holding down this fort. Go.”

She bit her lip, looked at her schedule again, and got up. “Okay, just - if anyone comes in, ask them for their student ID, and if they don’t live here, you have to ask them who they’re visiting and call that person. Same for food delivery, except they’re not allowed to just go wandering around the halls, the person has to come get it. The numbers are in this binder here, and if the mail comes - oh, wait, it’s Sunday. No mail. Okay.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he said, plopping himself in her chair. “I’ll be here.”

She rushed off toward the elevators.

He chewed on his reheated pizza and surveyed the back of the desk. It was covered in all the little notes and shorthand of a desk that several people shared. Notes of people not to let in - apparently, 542 had a nasty ex. Hours and locations of things on campus. A schedule, Caitlin’s name in every block from noon on Friday.

He opened the binder. The first page was clearly the workers, because it had another copy of the schedule and a list of phone numbers and room numbers. He noted Caitlin’s - 401. Whoa. She’d been one floor up for two months. He could have just gone up the stairs. Why had they never met?

Well, they’d met now.

He considered the phone number, then shut the binder. Taking note of a girl’s room, that was one thing. Taking their phone number without their knowledge or permission was something else.

The crust of the pizza was all gross and tough from being reheated. He tried gnawing at it for a moment, then decided it was too nasty and threw it away. It landed on top of a paper plate with a few crumbs and a corner of dried-up bread crust. She must have had another sandwich for lunch.

The elevator dinged, and he dropped her study schedule on top of her stack of books. She came out with the wayward soc book tucked under her arm. “Thanks,” she said. “How was it?" 

"So busy,” he said, vacating the seat. “So, so busy. I’m dying. I don’t know how you do it." 

She wrinkled her nose at him again and settled in, but didn’t move to open the textbook. "I know you think I’m silly, but I really planned to get some work done this weekend. Maybe work ahead and buy myself some breathing room mid-semester.”

“Is that why you stayed? To study?”

She looked away. “Not really.”

He was quiet, leaving space open for her to talk.

“I didn’t want to go home,” she said. “I know most people did, to see their friends and - I just didn’t.”

“Not even your parents?”

“My mom works a lot.”

She didn’t mention her dad, he noticed.

“So there’s nobody at home that I want to see,” she finished up. 

He raised his brows. When she didn’t go on, he said, “Nobody from high school? Nobody you want to reunite with? Nobody you want to tell all about your adventures at college?”

She played with her study schedule, folding the corner over. “I’ve never been a social kind of person,” she said. “And after senior year - no, nobody.”

He studied here. There was a story there, in that cut-off phrase. “What happened?” he said gently. “Senior year.”

She folded her schedule again, and a third time. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, she said, “I had a boyfriend.”

“Many people do.”

“His name was Hunter,” she went on. “He was popular and cute and smart and I couldn’t believe it when we started dating. He made me feel so special. And his friends were so nice. I’d never had a group of friends before. He was sweet and kind and just, just perfect.”

“Sounds like a prince,” Cisco contributed, wondering how this story ended.

“He was,” she said. “I thought. But the other thing about him was that he lied. He lied about everything. His ex and his car and where he was when I texted and even his grades.”

“Ooo,” Cisco said. “Not so princely.”

“Nuh-uh. Sometimes I think he lied just because he could. And when I figured out he was lying, he would even lie about that! He would look me in the eyes and tell me that I must have lost my homework when I’d seen him take it off my desk before he left my house.” She heaved a sigh. “And when I got tired of that and broke up with him, he - ”

“Let me guess,” Cisco said. “He started lying about you.”

“It turned out that all my new friends weren’t really my friends, they were his. And people who didn’t care about me one way or the other, before, they were all happy to believe I was a crazy bitch who made up stories when I got dumped. So.” She smoothed her schedule out. “I’m really not that excited about going home.”

“I get that.” He folded his arms on the top of the desk and rested his chin on them. “Hunter’s a moron. You know that, right?”

“He cheated in every class,” she said. “Every single one.”

It made him smile a little. She sounded so indignant. “Well, yeah, there’s that. But I mean, he was a moron to treat a girl like you that way. You didn’t deserve that, not from him or his friends.”

She smiled a little. “Thanks. I’ve made friends here, you know,” she added. “My roommate and some others. They’re just all gone for the weekend.”

“Except me,” he said.

She blinked up at him. “Right,” she said. “Except you." 

He gave the desk a little knock. "Well, I won’t disrupt your study schedule anymore, but you know where to find me if you need a break.”

* * *

_5\. Sunday Night_

When Cisco put in his food order, he didn’t wait for it to arrive, but took himself downstairs almost right away. 

“Hey,” he called out, and Caitlin’s head popped up, a smile brightening her face. 

“Hi!”

He grinned. “Listen, is it okay with you if I hook up my console to the TV in the rec room? I could play in my room but it’s, you know. Lonely.”

“I’m fine with that,” she said, getting up to hold the door. “What are you playing?”

“Not sure. I finished two big games so far this weekend, so maybe something quick and fun.”

She leaned in the doorway, watching him set up. He glanced at her. “Wanna play? Study break.”

She played with the strings on her shirt. “I’m kind of studied out,” she admitted. 

He clutched his heart. “Quick, check the weather, I want to see where the pigs are flying.”

She made a face at him. 

“If you’re too tired to study, you really need to play something.” His screen popped up and he handed her a controller. 

(Okay, yeah he might have been planning this offer. Sue him.)

“The desk,” she said, not very forcefully. 

“If you sit right there at the end of the couch, you can see it,” he said. “Ever played Mario Kart?”

She tilted her head, then reached for the second controller. 

“I’ll take it easy on you,” he said. “Promise.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” she said, and wiped the floor with him. 

“Oh my god!“ he wailed as her car careened over the finish line a full lap ahead of him. "I’ve been hustled. You hustler.”

“I never said I hadn’t played before,” she said. “You assumed.”

“And I made an ass out of myself,” he said. "But seriously, you don’t strike me as the gamer girl type.”

“Video games have been shown to increase hand-eye coordination and hone problem-solving skills.” She flexed her fingers. “My roommate has this game. It really is excellent stress relief.”

He grinned. “Okay, enough chivalry. I get to reclaim my honor now.”

“You can try,” she said demurely, folding her legs under her. 

They’d done eight races - six of which Caitlin had won - before his stomach growled and he realized his food was really taking a long time. “Hang on, hang on,” he said, setting his controller down and picking up his phone. What he saw made him groan. “Oh, shit!”

“What?”

He stared mournfully at the app. “I forgot to hit the submit button. I never sent the order in.” He checked something and groaned again. “And they’re closed already.”

“Can you order from somewhere else?”

“I guess, I’ll just have to wait longer.” His stomach growled again. “And I ate all the rest of my pizza earlier.” He pouted.

“That’s terrible,” she said innocently. “If only you had a friend who had some microwaveable food in her room.”

He clasped his hands under his chin and hit her with puppy eyes. “Pleeeeeease can I have some Easy Mac?”

“Mmmm, I don’t know, you did make fun of it.”

“No, no, no,” he said. “Late at night? Everything closed? On the brink of starvation? This is exactly the situation that calls for Easy Mac.”

She laughed. “Keep an eye on the desk for a minute?”

“You got it. You’re the best." 

She was back down with the plastic bowl within a few minutes. He thought of hugging her or kissing her cheek, but they were barely friends. He didn’t know how she’d react, and the last thing he wanted was to scare her off. So he just said, "Thank you so much, you’re awesome,” as they went over to the kitchen.

"It’s Easy Mac,” she said, blushing a little. “Three-fifty at the convenience store.”

“Still a ripoff,” he said, following the directions on the side and popping it in the microwave. “You didn’t get one for you?”

“I ate before you came downstairs.”

He got an orange soda from the vending machine while it cooked. The pasta was a little crunchy because he hadn’t put enough water in, but it tasted like a feast. He settled back into his spot on the couch and chowed down.

She sat with him, idly flipping through the different characters on the screen. “Can I ask you something?” she said very tentatively.

“Sure, shoot.”

“I told you why I stayed, this weekend. But why did you?”

He stirred the pasta a few times to break up a big lump of powder. She waited.

Finally, he said, “My brother had a concert.”

“Oh,” she said. “Um - you didn’t want to see it?”

“I’ve seen so many of my brother’s concerts,” he said. “And this one was in San Fran. Some young prodigy series. Isn’t there an upper limit on when somebody’s considered a young prodigy? Like, if you’re old enough to drink, doesn’t that DQ you from prodigy-hood? Like, I’d think.”

“So, you didn’t want to go to San Francisco.”

“Not if it meant hanging around a hotel room while he got photographed and went to practices and my mom was being all stage-mommy.” He shrugged. “I’ve done that. Got the t-shirt. I’m over it.”

“You couldn’t just go home? See your friends?”

“My pop said I would throw a party and destroy the house, so no, I couldn’t. Which, heh, I may have done once or twice in high school, so he’s not totally defaming my character there.”

She didn’t laughed. “You didn’t this weekend. Here.”

“Everybody I know went home.”

"Everybody except me."

He smiled at her, echoing what he'd said last night, and stirred his pasta again. “And I’m not … mad about it anymore.”

She raised her eyebrows, reminding him that he’d opted to stay at school and play video games alone in his room for three days straight rather than go to San Francisco. 

“I’m not as mad,” he corrected himself. “My brother and his music - it was such a thing at home, you know? Like it ate up all the air in my house. But here, it’s just like … whatever. It feels so distant. That’s them. That’s just the way things are. I don’t have to like it.” He shrugged again and set the macaroni bowl down, scraped clean. “Could be worse.”

“Well,” she said. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too,” he said. “Who knows how long it would have taken us to meet if I hadn’t?”

She picked up her controller and gave him a sweet smile. “So what are we up to? Best out of thirteen?”

“Hooo-hoo, she’s talking smack! Now you’re asking for it.” He grabbed for his own controller. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

* * *

_+1. Monday Afternoon_

Cisco walked down to the lobby, practicing. “Hey,” he said, casual, flirty, “so I was thinking - ” He almost swallowed the next word at the sight of the person behind the desk.

Who was … not Caitlin.

“Sup,” Kevin said, looking up from his tablet.

“Hey, man,” Cisco said. “Uh, where’s Caitlin?”

“Who?”

“Caitlin? The girl who was here all weekend? Where you’re sitting right now?”

Kevin squinted into the middle distance. Cisco could practically smell the smoke as his brain tried to get into gear. “Oh,” he said. “The chick. Yeah, she went back to her room, I think.” He looked back at his TV show.

“Oh.” Cisco considered that. He’d been intending to hang out with her here. But if she wasn’t on duty, maybe that would be better.

Or maybe it would be worse. Maybe when she wasn’t stuck at a desk, she wouldn’t talk to him at all.

But they’d hung out and played video games and laughed and talked for hours last night, even after she closed up the desk and put out a little sign that said she’d return at eight in the morning.

Welp. Nothing to do but try. He gave Kevin a little salute. “See you later, man.”

“Yup.”

He rested against the rail in the elevator, watching the numbers tick up one floor more than usual. He glanced at his phone, where he’d been having a whole convo with his roommate.

_It sounds like she likes you already_

**I know she does she practically said**

**But do you think she could LIKE me**

**more than friends like me**

**making out like me**

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of being friends. He thought she’d be a good one. But the part of him that had noticed how cute she was had already cast its vote for a making-out kind of relationship, and hopefully more. 

_Dude I don’t KNOW_

_Just like_

_invite her for a walk or something_

_if I ever get to talk to the Mysterious Goddess that’s how I’ll start_

Cisco put his phone away with a grunt. Barry was full of ideas for what he’d do if he ever managed to find the beautiful girl he sometimes randomly saw in the halls or around campus. Cisco kept telling him that the first step was to walk up and just say hi.

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor with a chirpy ding. The dorm was already starting to feel more normal, with room doors open and somebody laughing and girls walking up and down the hall. He waved and said hi to a couple of the girls that he knew already. How are you, how was your weekend, see you in class. 

He found 401, the door closed. He shook his shoulders out. Wooo. Go for it. Faint heart, et cetera. He knocked.

It opened after a moment, Caitlin saying, “Iris? Did you forget your - oh!”

“Hey,” he said. 

“HI,” she said. “I thought you were my roommate. She’s supposed to get back soon.”

“Nope. I’m me.”

“Hi,” she said, and blushed.

That was encouraging. He said, “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Me neither. So, the Riverside is open again.”

The buffet cafeteria by the student union was where most people sat down to eat if they had more than ten minutes to grab something. Better yet, it had a row of two-person booths under the south windows, cozy and bright. 

“I know,” she said. 

“And I figured I owe you a meal. So I wondered if you’d wanna come eat lunch.” He grinned again. “Unless you already have some Easy Mac.”

“No, but I was waiting for Iris to come back.”

“Oh,” he said, trying to parse that. A gentle brush-off? Or unwillingness to break a sacred girl-pact? “Okay. Well, we can rain-check it.”

“Actually,” she said, and he stopped in the act of taking a step back.

“Yeah?”

“Actually, I’d like that,” she said. “Lunch with you. I can catch up with Iris later.”

He felt his smile bloom. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. She reached over and grabbed her keys and ID off her desk, and patted her pocket for her phone. “Let’s go.”

FINIS


End file.
